by C. M. Sutter
Kate always thought she could trust her intuition, her premonitions, but now she wasn’t so sure. Were they a sign of things to come or not? Did they hold an ounce of reality or were they nothing more than horrific nightmares?
Tomorrow she would call Dr. Emerson to see if she had any openings. It had been a while since she attended a session.
Kate prolonged going to bed until late in the night. She was afraid to close her eyes—afraid of those dreams—but she finally gave in and snuggled deeply under the blankets.
The desperate cry for help and the screams startled her awake. It began as always—the racing heart, near panic, and self-doubt. Slow, deep breaths seemed to help. She lay motionless with her ears perked and wondered if the sound was real or part of a dream. If only there was a rewind button to know for sure. With each passing second of silence, the clock ticked on the nightstand. She turned her head and looked—2:57 again. The scream that came next caused her back to stiffen with fear. She cupped her hands over her ears to drown out the noise. She was certain she could will the sound away if she tried hard enough. With her head buried under the pillow and her eyes pinched closed, she pulled the blankets up to her chin and forced herself to ignore the sounds.
As daylight pierced through the slats on the blinds, Kate slapped at the buzzing alarm clock to silence it. The previous night’s dreams played out in her mind as they had so many times before.
It wasn’t real—none of it was. Everything I heard last night was in my dream. I even dreamed I was awake. What’s wrong with me?
She got up slowly, groggy from the lack of sleep, and slipped on her robe. She pulled the sheers aside at the bedroom window and peered out. The morning looked perfectly normal—just as always. She was thankful for her second-floor apartment, nonetheless. Living on the upper level gave her some sense of security. The windows weren’t accessible, and the only door to the apartment had a chain lock, dead bolt, and a key lock in the knob.
Kate trudged down the hallway to the kitchen and started the coffee. Instinctively, she reached for the legal pad and wrote what she remembered about last night’s dream.
Why does 2:57 a.m. keep coming up? Does that time hold some importance?
The screams lingered in her head. She didn’t want to relive them, but she felt she needed to. A flash of red popped into her mind. She was back. The redheaded woman from her dream several nights ago had returned, if only in bits and pieces, but her screams were more intense this time.
Is the killer closing in on her? Is he finally going to catch her and end her life?
At eight o’clock, she finally made the call. Dr. Emerson was the therapist Kate had started seeing in North Bend when these disturbing dreams began. They weren’t normal and not her usual type of dreams. The doctor was helpful to a degree, but even with sleeping pills, Kate found the dreams persisted. She wanted them to stop. She’d give the doctor another chance to help her figure this out.
Working as a psychic was exciting, and Kate valued her job and knew she’d been a real asset to police departments in the past. She had never questioned herself as a help to any community until now.
I need to prove myself to Sergeant Monroe and to the city of North Bend. I’m not a kook. I need to get back on track.
“Yes, I can make it at nine o’clock. I appreciate you squeezing me in.”
She clicked off the call and followed the hallway to her bathroom, where she showered and dressed. A pair of dark jeans and a simple white blouse were her attire for the day. As always, a silk scarf adorned her neck to hide the scars. Today’s was in a colorful paisley pattern.
Kate sat at her small round table and watched the morning news as she ate a bowl of cornflakes. The overnight murders in Milwaukee filled the breaking news segment. She clicked off the television and grabbed her purse and keys.
Her footsteps echoed off the linoleum steps as she descended the common stairway that all the tenants used. She exited the building onto the sidewalk facing Main Street. The morning air was cold, but the cloudless blue sky gave her a tiny shot of optimism. Daytime helped—she always felt safer during daylight hours. There wasn’t any place she considered safe at night, and she didn’t often wander around after dark.
That unexpected gust of wind chilled her. Kate zipped her jacket up to her chin and peeked around the corner. The long brick-walled alley led to the parking spaces for the tenants above the hardware store. At this time of day, it was deserted and quiet. Her car, parked behind the building, sat in the second space of eight. She clicked the key fob, climbed in, and locked the doors behind her. She was hopeful for a good outcome as she drove to the south side of town.
Chapter 18
Robert
Robert stirred and rolled over. He checked the time on the clock radio. “Hey, wake up, man. It’s eight thirty already. We have to get moving.”
Tony squinted as he cracked open his eyes. “It’s bright in here. Pull that damn curtain closed. I need some coffee before anything else, and what’s the big hurry, anyway?”
“I’m used to getting up at six thirty. Prison life is a little different than normal life, brother. Get your ass up. I’m hitting the shower.”
Tony grumbled as he rose and started the coffee. The small four-cup pot sat on the typical motel credenza that held a telephone book, a pen and notepad, a variety of advertisements for things to do and sights to see in Nashville, and a microwave oven. Next to the pot sat a basket containing coffee grounds pressed inside of a paper filter, powdered creamer, stirring sticks, sugar packets, cocoa, and three hot tea choices. A stack of cellophane-wrapped plastic cups and a box of scratchy, generic facial tissues was on top of the microwave.
The room was the standard ninety-dollar-a-night motel room a block off the highway exit. The red neon light had showed vacancy when Tony pulled in last night. They didn’t care much about the amenities. Even though the hallway carpet was tattered and the wallpaper border was in an ugly dusty-rose floral theme, a clean, comfortable bed and hot water for a shower was all they needed. Two full-sized beds, a small corner table, two nightstands, and a large wardrobe that contained a heavy TV from the ’90s lay beyond the door at room 1-C. It was exactly what they’d expected.
Robert wiped the steam-covered mirror with the towel, then brushed his teeth and exited the room. He saw Tony sitting at the round table, looking out the window toward the road. Highway noises hummed in the distance. He smoked a cigarette as he waited his turn in the bathroom.
“It’s all yours, bro.”
Robert clicked on the television set, then pulled clean clothes out of the suitcase. Tony grabbed a dry towel and was next to get ready for the day.
They packed the few items they’d brought into the room last night and browsed the continental breakfast before they checked out. After a meal of scrambled eggs, bacon, a few pieces of fruit, and two coffees each, they were ready to leave the motel by nine thirty. The Shopmart store at Music City Plaza was two exits up the highway.
Tony filled the truck’s gas tank and bought two packs of cigarettes at the Gas-n-Go truck stop just before the highway entrance. If all went according to plan, they’d reach Chicago by nightfall. There, they intended to break in the new knives.
“This looks like the exit.” Tony followed the ramp to the stop sign at Poplar Street and turned right. A block up, a large sign at the intersection of Adams and Poplar had Music City Plaza written across it.
Robert scanned the line of stores parallel to the massive parking lot. “There, at the far left.” He pointed at the Shopmart anchor store at the end of the strip mall.
Tony turned the truck in that direction. The strip mall was crowded at that time of morning. Shoppers, mostly women getting the weekly groceries, entered the large department-and-grocery-store combination.
“Check out that babe,” Robert said as they passed a young woman crossing the parking lot with a full grocery cart. “That gives me an idea.” He looked at the roof of the building to locate the store
cameras. “Pull to the corner of the building and park. The camera doesn’t face over there. Maybe we can try the knives out before tonight.” Robert reached in his wallet, pulled out the ticket, and handed it to Tony. “I think it’s smarter if you go in alone. You aren’t a convicted felon”—he chuckled—“yet.”
Chapter 19
Tony
Inside the store, Tony followed aisle three to the sporting goods area. A counter stood in front of him, and a clerk stood behind it. That part of the sporting goods section was designated to sell ammunition, guns, and knives.
Tony handed the man the slip he pulled out of his pocket. “I have a couple of knives to pick up here.”
The middle-aged clerk, wearing a short-sleeved polo shirt with Shopmart embroidered across the left chest in yellow thread, pulled up his glasses and read the order ticket. He asked to see Tony’s ID.
“These are quite the knives, young man.” He glanced at Tony, then back at the ID and the slip of paper. “Planning to gut an elephant?” He chuckled and waited for a response. He didn’t get one. Tony stared at him until the awkward silence prompted the clerk to speak again. “All righty, then, here’s your ID. I’ll be right back with your knives.” He disappeared behind a curtain with the ticket in his hand. Tony waited at the counter, drumming his fingertips impatiently until the clerk returned with two boxes. A picture of the knife and its description was displayed on the outside of each box. The man compared the barcode on the boxes with what was on the tickets. “Yep, these are the right ones. Here you go. You can pay for them right here if you want.”
“Go ahead, ring them up,” Tony said. He gave the clerk two hundred dollars and got a fistful of change back. He walked out of the store with the bagged boxes in hand.
Chapter 20
Robert
Back in the truck, Tony passed the bags containing the boxed knives to his brother.
“No problems?”
“Nah—piece of cake.”
Robert pulled the boxes out and opened each one. He studied the knives closely and nodded his approval. He thumbed their edges and flinched when he sliced his own flesh. He sucked on the wound and chuckled. “Guess we don’t need to use the stone on these. Man, I’m itching to get started. It’s been a while. Hope I didn’t lose my touch.” He attached one of the sheaths onto his belt and slid the knife inside. He jammed a long white zip tie into his pocket, then handed Tony the other knife.
“Do you want to get going or sit here and watch for a bit? Someone interesting might come along.”
Robert jerked his head to the left as an attractive redhead exited the store and walked across the parking lot. “Like her? Let’s see where she goes.”
Two cars were parked side by side along a row of trees that spread out over the edge of the parking lot. They were likely parked there to take advantage of shade and to avoid door dingers from other car doors.
“I hope she’s going to that Mazda,” Robert said. “The other car will block most everything I do from the camera.”
They continued watching as she approached the parked cars. Tony chuckled. “Look at her digging through her purse for her keys. She isn’t paying a damn bit of attention to her surroundings—stupid bitch. Go get her.”
Robert reached for the door handle as Tony inched the truck closer. “Follow me out of town. I’ll turn off when I find a secluded spot.” He grinned at his brother, jumped out, and followed the redhead at a quickened pace. He didn’t want her to get away. He thought up his story as he approached her. He patted the knife in the sheath and made sure his T-shirt covered it. “Excuse me,” he called out. “Are you a local? I seem to be lost. My pop went inside to get directions, but I thought it would be faster to find somebody out here to ask.” He continued toward her.
She smiled and shielded the sun with her hand. “Yeah, I’m local. Where were you looking to go?” Her expression changed as he got closer. The facial tattoos and the malicious look he wore made her back up against her car. Her purse fell to the pavement.
Robert was on her in a flash. The knife was in his right hand, and he squeezed her arm tightly with his left. He grinned and leaned in close to her face. He inhaled her scent. “Mmm…I missed that smell. Feel that? There’s a big blade against your ribs, pretty lady, and I’ll gut you with one fast swipe if you make a peep. Now, put your hands behind your back.”
She did as she was told. Robert noticed her eyes frantically darting across the parking lot as she looked for help.
“Yeah, you parked pretty far out. That was a serious mistake on your part.” Robert zip tied her hands behind her back. She grunted when he pulled them extra tight, cutting into her wrists. He grabbed her purse that had dropped to the ground and pulled out the keys. “Get in the car and crawl across the seat.” He shielded his face and looked at the truck moving slowly toward him. He nodded. Robert climbed in behind the wheel of the Mazda and took off out of the parking lot.
Chapter 21
Kate
Kate checked in at the reception desk then found a seat in the small, intimate waiting room. Soothing music played through the speakers attached to shelves in each corner. Various magazines were available on the wall rack, and others lay across the coffee table. A K-Cup brew station stood directly across from her on a countertop. Kate rose and crossed the room to browse the selections. She chose vanilla hazelnut, dropped in the single-serve cup, filled the water reservoir, and waited. Less than a minute later, she had a hot cup of flavorful coffee. She returned to her seat and picked up a travel magazine to read.
She hadn’t gotten through the first article about the transcontinental rail pass when her name was called. She looked up, and an aide waited at the hallway and said she would take Kate back to Dr. Emerson’s office. The third door on the left, made of solid mahogany, bore a gold nameplate that read Dr. Meredith Emerson CP.
The aide opened the door, asked Kate to have a seat in the guest chair facing the doctor’s desk, and closed the door at her back. Kate sat in the quiet room and looked at the framed photographs that lined the desk. Happy family poses and smiling faces filled each frame.
Are those smiles real or staged for the camera? Does Dr. Emerson actually have a happy life? Are you required to be married and have children in order to be at peace?
The door creaked open, and Dr. Emerson walked through. She wore the required white lab coat with her name embroidered across the breast pocket. Her short blond hair was impeccably styled, and her skin was a flawless ivory color. She smiled and extended her hand. Kate shook it.
“It’s good to see you again, Kate. What brings you in today?”
“I’m having self-doubt and a lot of nightmares.”
Dr. Emerson sat behind her desk and paged through Kate’s file.
“It’s been a while since we’ve spoken. It looks like you canceled the last two appointments. What’s going on?”
“I’m embarrassed. As soon as I think I’ve got it together, the dreams start up, and all logic flies out the window. I don’t know if I can trust my instincts and intuition anymore.”
“But that’s your occupation, and it has worked well for you in the past.”
“Not since I’ve moved to North Bend. Nobody believes my premonitions, other than the people who want individual readings. I want to help law enforcement. That’s my true desire. These horrible dreams are a sign, I know they are, but I can’t prove it to anyone. After two years, Sergeant Monroe has finally given me the time of day, and my dreams don’t prove to be at all useful. I wasted the entire day at the sheriff’s department yesterday trying to find an unidentified woman that doesn’t exist.”
“So, the bad dreams have returned?”
“Yes, and even more disturbing than in the past.”
“Do you get any quality sleep?”
Kate chuckled. “That would be funny if it weren’t so pathetic. I sleep maybe four hours a night and wake up every morning soaking wet with fear. I know something bad is about to happen—I can fe
el it, but I can’t prove it.”
Dr. Emerson jotted the information down. “You know you’re going to fall ill if you don’t get some restful sleep. I’m giving you another prescription. These sleeping pills are non-habit forming, but they aren’t going to help you sleep if you don’t take them.”
“I need pills that will make the nightmares go away.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have those. That is an internal issue, Kate, and may require lengthy psychiatric help.”
“The man that tried to kill me was released from prison yesterday, and the dreams of women being murdered have gotten worse in the last month.”
“Likely caused by the anxiety of his upcoming release.”
“That’s what I think too, except I believe my dreams are real premonitions.” Kate fidgeted in her chair. She regretted making that appointment and remembered why she’d canceled the last two. The doctor wasn’t taking her seriously, either.
“First off, I think you need some restful sleep.”
The doctor wrote a new prescription and handed it to Kate.
“Then, I’m going to recommend that you set up an appointment with Dr. Joseph Lee. He’s a wonderful psychiatrist that may help you get past these dreams so you can live the life you want. If you’re serious about helping law enforcement solve cases, you have to get rid of the demons in your own head first.”
Kate thanked the doctor and left. She tore up the prescription as she walked out of the building and threw the shreds of paper in the nearest garbage can.
